


beauty in the obvious

by solsix



Series: and so we just hold on [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Blind Character, Coming Out, Falling In Love, Family Feels, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Sam-Centric, Trans Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-08-30 07:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8524132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solsix/pseuds/solsix
Summary: "Let's face it. I have it on good sources that you're terribly cute and I'm definitely tragically cute, so why don't we just be cute together? It makes perfect sense to me!" In which Sam tells his mama about the cute boy who's definitely not his boyfriend, wanders to a new part of Brooklyn, has another dinner with his cute date, and reveals the part of himself that he holds closest. As it turns out, it's a Very Good Day indeed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> a sequel to [i really (really) like you](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8233814). maybe suitable as a standalone? i wouldn't say reading the first part is necessary but some of the context might be missing. 
> 
> this got long. like, really damn long. one time i looked at it was near 10k and the next i'm at 17000 wondering how the hell that happened. 
> 
> see end note for potentially spoilery warnings.
> 
> title is from _more often than sometimes _by shane koyczan.__

“Oh, you’re a good boy,” Darlene Wilson sighs contently, finally putting her feet up as a cup of strong coffee is pushed into her hand and a plate of biscuits appear next to her. It’s piled high with chocolate chip cookies, shortbread rings with jam in the middle, and squashy little marshmallow fluff balls covered in chocolate and coconut. The last ones are Sam's favourite; he’d bought a twelve pack about a week ago from one of those little stores that sell British food, and now there are only four left. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't had them all. Darlene takes one of the cookies, though, and finally feels settled enough to relax. Her grand babies are finally having their afternoon nap, her dinner for the night is simmering in the pot on the stove, and she’s finally been able to sort out the mail that’s been piling up for the past few days. She looks at her son as he collapses down onto the sofa opposite her and stretches himself out, letting out a long breath before he looks over and gives her a warm smile. “Thank you for your help today, baby, I know you’re busy.”

“You don’t gotta thank me, mama,” Sam replies automatically, shuffling up the cushions a little and tucking his feet next to him as he rips open one of the marshmallow balls. He shoves half the thing into his mouth and props his elbow up on the arm of the chair, looking over at the brand new coffee table he’d built earlier with a strange sense of pride. It’s one of those cheap ones out of IKEA (the pride is probably because it’s still standing) but it looks pretty good, and it was ten times easier to build than he thought it was going to be even if he did have a six year old and a two year old hanging off him at any given time. He’d gone out to the store in Paramus earlier that day and had built it as soon as he got back, his mama watching patiently as she tended to two rowdy kids waiting for their mother to get home. “I was thinking about getting you one of the bookcases to match. What do you think?”

Darlene looks from her new coffee table to her son, her eyes brightening before she smiles and nods. “That’d be lovely. I need somewhere to keep my books and journals, not to mention your father’s old things,” she explains, taking a few sips from her cup before setting it down on the table. She slips a coaster under it, of course. “Sarah wanted me to get rid of them so I’d have more space for myself but, I told her, I just can’t throw them away!” Darlene shakes her head exasperatedly and looks over to Sam again, giving another smile and looking to the time, “She’ll be home soon; she’s staying for dinner with the kids.” There’s a pause and Sam knows what’s coming before the words are even out of her mouth. “And my own son not staying for dinner when his mama’s making her jambalaya, I never thought I’d see the day. You love it!”

Sam knows his mother thinks the sun shines from his very being. Everyone always says that parents always think that about their children but, with her, Sam knows it. His mother is his biggest fan and she always had been. She’s been his rock, his safe place, and his biggest inspiration since he was a baby, even if she does sometimes get on his very last nerve. He’s put her through hell and back and she still talks about him to the folks at the church as if he’s an angel sent down from the heavens. He heard it from old Mrs Mac next door herself, how his mama had told her all about how he’s off running his own shop and has _their_ family name above the door.

“Yeah, mama, it’s my favourite,” he states, giving a smile and wincing, “I have plans, though. I’ll come on Sunday, I promise.”

They fall into a blissful silence and Sam watches as her eyes close for a few seconds and open again, before she just stares at her new table and nods happily. He’s still smiling as he looks down at his phone and shoots James a quick reply to the message he left, adding a few kissy emojis a few seconds later before sliding his phone back into his pocket. It beeps a few minutes later again but he lets himself ignore it for now, knowing that James knows he’s at his ma’s house and if he’s on his cell too much then there’s a good chance she’ll flush it down the toilet. “Hey, has Gidge visited recently at all?”

His mama’s eyes go sad all at once and, again, Sam knows the answer before she says it, her words only confirming what he thought so he nods and smiles anyway. “Well, you have Sarah and I, huh? And the kids!” He tries to make it better, but there’s no hiding the fact that his big brother has barely spoken to them in the past three years and Sam got punched in the face the last time they did cross paths. “Don’t worry about him, mama, you still got us.”

“I do, baby,” Darlene smiles, even if it’s watery and Sam can see the tears in her eyes. Sam feels his heart break and moves over next to her, squeezing himself into the spot on her left and putting his arm around her shoulders. “What about you, now? Do you have someone yet? When are you going to bring a nice girl home to meet your mother?” She pauses only to take another drink before going on. “Oh, or bring a nice boy this time. That last girl - what was her name? - she wasn’t great. I’m glad that didn’t work out.” To be honest, Sam can’t remember her name either. She had been a Tinder hook up who he hadn’t been able to shake off in time for Sunday dinner. He’s laughing as his mother stares at him unwaveringly, before her hand comes up and she pats his leg. “ _Well_ ,” she presses, “Do you?” She pauses and her hand comes down over his own, Sam looking at her with a reserved smile. “It’s been three years, baby, you gotta let someone in again.”

Three years? Really? Sam finds himself counting back and is surprised to find that it is indeed that long, even if the day is still fresh and open in his mind. Just thinking about it feels like he’s pouring salt into the wound and rubbing it in. He’d met Riley at New Year’s party going into 2008, and he had been funny, charismatic, kind, and the biggest gentleman Sam had ever met in his life. He'd almost sweated right through his shirt when Riley had leaned in to kiss him at midnight. The rest, as they say, is history. Riley was Sam's one true love. They were going to spend the rest of their lives together, in sickness and in health, forever and always. But, as always, things happen and Riley had a severe allergic reaction to a medication during a routine surgery. No one could have known; it was no ones fault.

"Yeah, mama," Sam sighs sadly, and he can sense her still looking up at him curiously. She still looks sad and he knows it's because he looks sad too, so he pulls out his phone and opens up his photos quickly. "There's actually this guy I've met up with a couple of times," he starts, and he finds himself smiling again as he thinks about their dinner date, and the coffee date that followed a week later, and the movie date that had come not long after that.

Sam had felt like an A+ asshole when he'd first suggested it, before James had politely reminded him that blind people still go to the movies and that audio description is basically everywhere now. So they had sat at the back of the theatre with their hands linked and a bucket of popcorn between them, and Sam had watched James laugh and shovel handfuls of popcorn into his mouth and had fallen for him somewhere between the first big explosion and the part where the theatre was suddenly laughing in unison. He's not entirely sure what had happened in between. "Uh," Sam mumbles, flicking through the slew of selfies he'd taken that morning and giving a sigh, "This is him. His name is James. Uh, we’re, uh- actually, he’s cooking me dinner tonight so, yeah, that’s where I’m going.”

Sam chooses his favourite picture that James has sent him. In that past few weeks they've texted or called almost every day, and a fair share of photos have worked their way in as well. This one is one of James sitting on a sofa with a fluffy, happy looking corgi, his arm holding her up and her tongue lolling out to the side. Sam can always remember this one because the first had been at a selfie angle and too blurry to make out, before James had obviously asked someone to take a good photo and had got a beauty as a result. Sam had definitely teased him about the tie-die t-shirt he’s wearing in the image.

“Oh, what a lovely looking boy,” Darlene smiles, holding Sam’s phone as if it’s going to explode any second and giving a giggle, “He could’ve looked at the camera, or is that what all you kids do nowadays to look cool?”

“Nah, ma, he can’t see very well. There was some kind of accident.” That’s all Sam really knows right now. At one point he thought James was going to talk about it, before he seemed to clam up and they talked about Star Trek vs Star Wars instead. Sam takes his phone back for a second and flips through his pictures until he reaches one from their movie date, showing her the selfie Sam had taken of them both. Sam, even if he says so himself, is looking better and happier than he has in a long while, and James is looking as perfect as always with his long hair pulled into a ponytail and some make up around his eyes. “This was us a couple of weeks ago.” Sam smiles at the thought and lets his mom look at the picture longer, keeping a careful eye on her in case she starts getting a little swipe happy. No mother needs to see their grown up kid lying provocatively, half naked (or totally naked), at any given point. “We haven’t been able to meet up in a while so I’m, um, I’m really looking forward to tonight.” _Understatement of the century_.

Sam takes his phone back from his mother and takes a minute to look down at the photo himself, swiping a few to the right to see the one that James had taken of him on the way to the subway station. It’s a little blurry but there’s no hiding the grin on his face, and there’s definitely no hiding the way his heart seems to jump inside of him at the thought of seeing James again. He just needs to get through another hour or so.

“You like him, don’t you? It’s obvious!”  
  
Sam looks up to see his mom looking at him with one of those knowing expressions, wishing for once that she didn’t know him _quite_ so well. Does he like James? Yeah, he really does. Considering it all started with them both being coerced into a blind date, Sam would say things have went better than expected. In fact, they’re drastically different than what he expected. For the first time in years, he can actually imagine himself in another relationship after only a few times meeting him.

And that scares Sam to death.

“Yeah, mama,” Sam admits, both to his mother and to himself, “He’s nice. He’s, uh, he’s really nice.” He smiles but he knows his mom sees right through it, deciding to just get to the point before she starts getting upset again. “I still haven’t came out to him,” he adds, “Before you ask.” He flips his phone around in his hand and sighs heavily, throwing himself back into the sofa opposite Darlene and running a hand over his face. "It's just...never seemed like the right time."

Sam had told Riley that he's trans on their third date, in the middle of the Met when the conversation had somehow loaned itself well and Sam had just...went for it. He didn't know what to expect, maybe for Riley to run, or pull away, or maybe shout, but instead he had smiled and told him that he'd already figured it out. Sam hasn't asked how, he didn't want to know, but had simply asked why he hadn't said something himself. Riley's answer? It wasn't up to him to decide when to talk about it. Sam had fallen in love in the middle of the Greeks and Romans, and had wondered if they could've written a better story.

"I know it's your decision and I will always support you, baby, but you have to let him know before you get in too far so you don’t get hurt,” Darlene says honestly, and Sam knows she's right. She's always bloody right. He also knows that she'll support him no matter what. She always has; she's the one that took him to get his hair cut after he went to her and told her that he wasn't a girl, and she's the one that gave him the very last of her savings so he could buy a proper binder and some new clothes so he would feel more comfortable. She's also the one that scraped him off the floor when Riley died, and held him while he cried himself to sleep and woke himself up sobbing within the hour. "You tell him when you're ready, Sam, and you take each day as it comes. No one can expect any more than that from you."

"Yeah, I know. Maybe tonight, maybe, I don’t know.“

"And if that boy has any sense he'll love you as much as everyone else does and you'll bring him around for dinner, alright? As soon as you can so I can meet him!" Darlene continues as if Sam didn’t say a word, taking a gulp of her tea and picking up a biscuit from the side, "And if he doesn't have any sense, you bring him around anyway and I'll beat it into him. You mark my words, baby.”

Sam's laughing now, one hand over his stomach and the other over his chest. "Trust me," he chuckles, wondering if his mom already has a rolled up magazine prepared, "I believe you." There's the sound of heels on a staircase and Sam knows it's his sister straight away, getting up so his mom doesn't have to before the bell to the apartment rings loudly. "Hey, do me a favour, ma?" Sam asks as Darlene stands up, smoothing down her dress with a smile. "Keep James and I on the down low for now, alright? It doesn't need to be a big deal. It's _not_ a big deal."

"Alright, alright," Darlene mumbles, waving him out of the way so she can get the door for her daughter herself after all. Sam knows better than to fight with her and steps to the side, pulling out his phone again to send a quick text to James before he hears his mama's voice carry through from the hallway, "Sarah, honey, Sam's got himself a new boyfriend!"

"Ma!" Sam yells, but he knows it falls on deaf ears.

"James, his name is," Darlene explains, before she and Sarah appear into the living room and his sister immediately locks eyes with him. “His attention has been on his phone instead of his mama for most of the day. Don't think I didn't notice, Sam Wilson!”

"You have a new boyfriend? I thought T’Challa was your boyfriend?!“

"No! T’Challa is my- he's not a boyfriend, he's- _ma!_ I don’t have a new boyfriend.“ This is why he waits to tell his family about any relationships he has, because one minute he's finding someone cute and the next they're planning a wedding ceremony and where they're gonna raise Darlene's future grand babies. "He's not a boyfriend, okay? He's just a guy I've been seeing for a couple of weeks, alright?" He can already see his sister calculating _something_ and shoots her a glare, before his mother yells through about their dinner plans and Sam kicks himself for ever opening his mouth. "Yes, we're having dinner but it's _just_ dinner!"

"Wow, this must be the first relationship you've had in years," Sarah says offhandedly, even if everyone knows she thinking the same as his mother. It's his first relationship since Riley. Or, it would be had it even reached that far! It's just a- _a thing_. "I thought you were gonna die single and alone, big brother." Sam rolls his eyes and shakes his head, flopping back down into the sofa and watching as Sarah makes sure her kids haven't been any trouble. He hears his mother say they've been delights all afternoon, but he knows seven year old Jody threw a tantrum over a cookie and two year old Sasha had a meltdown when Darlene wouldn't let her touch the kitchen knives. _Kids_ , Darlene had sighed, but Sam definitely had another word he'd use there.

Sam rolls his eyes as he listens to his family share he obligatory gossip, zoning out on whatever next door's son is up to and flicking open his phone to where James has left a new message.

**"Dinner is tasting delicious! I'm going to be the first blind chef to collect all of those star things! Also to amaze you I hope. ;-)"**

Sam throws his head back and runs his hand over his face as he feels a full body blush run over him, a warmth settling over him at the mere thought of what’s yet to come as he types back in return:

**"Does that mean I get to call you Michelin Man?"**

Sam's only joking, of course, and he knows James will take it that way. He likes that they can both joke with each other and have nothing be weird, Sam finding out that James actually has quite a sick sense of humour when he wants and some of his jokes are definitely not suitable for young ears. Hell, some of them were barely suitable for _his_ ears and he's basically unflappable. They'd spent about three hours in the coffee shop just making each other laugh and talking about the small stuff, the both of them meeting just after work one day when it had been particularly stressful. God, Sam was sure he had gave himself a pulled muscle from laughing so hard.

He's giggling at the thought when his phone beeps in succession, his eyes flying down and a soft snort escaping him.

**"...Rude"**

**"And I'd prefer the stay puff marshmallow man okay? Like me, he's much cuter and I too would be absolutely delicious if you ate me."**

";-) ;-)"

Sam's eyes widen at the last part and he's caught between shock and laughter, holding his phone to his chest and asking if himself he's looking too much into this. He's not sure he's ever been this invested in text messages before, but it wouldn't be the first time if he were to go to T'Challa and ask him what the hell something means. Without the sneaky little winky faces, it's just adorable and funny, but with them it sounds as though James is totally coming onto him. That's what it means, right? "Totally what it means..." Sam mumbles to himself, wondering what ever happened to good, old fashioned _'I want to do X, Y and Z to you and make you scream my name!'_

"Totally what _what_ means?" a voice suddenly asks, and Sam's throwing his phone into his pocket before he even realises who it is. Sarah drops down next to him and she throws her feet up into his lap, Sam settling his hands over them and sighing heavily. "Look at you grinning away! I can see it from a mile away- God, it’s sickening.”

"Shut up," Sam retorts, flicking his little sister on the calf and shaking his head. It's nowhere near love, not quite yet. It's only been five weeks since they met and they've only went out together twice since that! "I, unlike you, have full control over my emotions, thank you very much."

"Liar." Sarah raises her eyebrows and innocently takes a sip of her drink, the steam rising up so it hits her glasses and fogs them up. If his mind wasn't elsewhere, Sam would totally be making fun of her by now. "Mama says you haven't told him yet."

"Nope," Sam mumbles, popping the 'p' and keeping his attention on the book he's flicking through just for something to do. "And, no, I don't want to talk about it." Sam's a big believer in unless he's planning to screw _you_ , then it's really none of your business.

"Hmm," Sarah sighs, setting her mug down into the floor and staring at her brother fondly. She was there, too; she was there the times Sam had trusted someone enough to let them in further and they had completely turned against him. Hell, she was the one to clean up his puke and get him into bed the one time he thought drinking his night away was the solution. "Well, I guess just let him know before you're in bed and he thinks it's fell off or something, huh?"

Sam pounces up from the sofa and lets out a breathy laugh. “Okay, that’s enough of that,” he starts, sliding his phone into his back pocket and reaching for his jacket that he’d thrown over the back of the chair, “I gotta bounce. I need to get to Williamsburg by six and I’m not gonna keep a guy waiting.” He gives his sister a peck on the cheek and moves through to the kitchen to find his mom, Darlene busy stirring her food like crazy before she looks around and her eyes widen. “Yeah, gotta go, ma.”

“Alright, baby, you have a good night now,” Darlene grins, throwing her arms around Sam’s neck and hugging him tightly before letting him go. “And you bring that boy to me, you hear me?” Sam gives a soft laugh and nods, giving his mama a kiss as well and patting her back as he leaves. “See you, baby.”

“See ya, ma,” Sam smiles, shouting a goodbye to Sarah before remembering that there’s two sleeping kids in the next room. Oh well, at least he won’t have to listen to them screaming if they wake up. He’s out of the apartment in a few minutes and texts James to tell him so, picking up his pace double time as he makes his way to the subway on 145th Street. He figures it's easier (and cheaper) to take a subway down to 8th and hop on the L than it is to try and hail a cab that will take him to Brooklyn for half his weekly wage, if not more. He really does hope that he doesn't stink too much by the time he gets to James' and, really, he would have changed, but James had insisted that this isn't a fancy thing and Sam isn't allowed to show him up by dressing all nice. So instead he's wearing a nice shirt with plain jeans, along with a light jacket thrown over his arm in case it starts raining. For the middle of September, it's still pretty hot out even if the weather is a little less undecided on what it's going to be for the day.

He counts himself lucky that it's not too busy on the subway, dropping down into the first seat he finds and preparing himself for the long ride down to 8th. Sam can't help but to start thinking as soon as everything else goes quiet, his arms folded across his chest and his brow knitted into a frown as he thinks of the telling James that he's trans. He wishes to god that it wasn't such a big deal, he really does, but he knows that not everyone is as open, or as accepting, or as willing to understand. His own father only begrudgingly let him stay in the house because his mama told him so, and he looked at him with such contempt sometimes that Sam wished he'd just left anyway. Eventually it became easier with him, maybe his father got softer with changing times, but not everyone met him with open arms. He's lost count of the number of times he's been turned away, lost count of the number of times he's had to pick himself up, shake himself off, and start all over again.

And he likes James.

He really likes him.

Five weeks is a short time but he's felt more in shorter. The more Sam thinks about him, the more his heart races and he's caught between grinning his head off and throwing up because holy shit he's not sure it's possible to be more nervous. Buzz Aldrin and all those guys weren't this nervous shooting off to the moon, Sam bets. "I'm going to tell him," Sam says out loud, mostly to himself but the old lady sitting opposite him raises her head and looks at him curiously. He gives her a smile that's more like a grimace and watches as more people flood in the closer they get to Times Square, wondering what it would be like to live in a place that doesn't have a million tourists at any given time. "I'll tell him," he repeats, nodding to himself and letting out a shaky breath.

He's going through various scenarios as he jumps on the eastbound L and promises himself that he is not going to puke on this subway car. He's going to calm the fuck down, chill the fuck out, and have a beautiful fucking dinner with an extremely attractive man. What happens after that, well, if it's fine then it's fine and if it's not...then he has a bottle of Captain Morgan in his apartment that's just aching to be opened. He tries in vain to think about something else and scans over the ads on the opposite wall, deciding that if James turns out to be a terrible cook then they can just get something through Seamless. He's already perfected his _"wow, this is delicious!"_ face from the times his sister tried - tried being the operative word - to cook.

Luckily, it’s only a fifteen minute ride to Grand Street and he doesn’t have too spend too much time alone with his thoughts, jumping off and looking around at the strange place. In all his time living in New York, he’s never been here. He’s been to Washington Avenue, to some geeky little bar that serves cocktails named after Doctor Who characters, and to a flea market in DUMBO, as well as visiting Coney Island one time when he was a kid, but he’s never been _here_. When he steps out of the subway he’s immediately met with a mural covered in peace signs and people working together, his eyes looking up to see that it’s plastered on the side of a Chase bank. Well, what’s an American city without a Chase bank on every other corner, huh?

Sam pulls out his phone again and shoots James a quick text, telling him that he’s ten minutes away and won’t be too long. He’s taking in his surroundings as he walks, passing another mural with little houses, a Department of Health building, a basketball court where kids are screaming and trying to reach half court shots before it melts into white houses, and red houses, and blue houses, and typical Brooklyn brownstones that have potted plants on the sills. He scans for number eighty five and feels his heart skip a beat when he sees that the house he’d been ogling is in fact the one he’s after, looking to its red bricks and black painted windows before giving a small laugh. James wasn’t joking when he said he had a little place above Steve’s garage.

He debates texting James to tell him he’s outside before he decides to buckle up and knock on the damn door like a civilised human being, questioning the woodpecker knocker as it rattles against the backboard and a light flicks on inside. He barely has time to compose himself before the door is thrown open and a beautiful - no, _drop dead gorgeous_ \- woman gasps and gives him a smile.

“You must be Sam!” she grins, practically yanking him over the threshold and giving him a peck on either cheek. He’s probably going to have two bright red lipstick stains now. “I’m Peggy.”

Peggy looks as though she’s stepped out of a 1950s movie, her hair impeccably pinned up and a red and white polka dot dress flowing with her as she walks. She’s also impossibly British, and Sam almost snorts when she asks if he wants a cup of tea.

“No, no, I’m alright thanks,” Sam smiles, looking around and figuring that the place must look small from the outside because it’s huge inside. He guesses that it was once a couple of apartments stacked together, but now it’s one big house with a large window at the front and a larger window at the back. In the backyard he can see Steve play wrestling with little boy while his daughter chases the same corgi from the photograph, adamant to retrieve the ball that it’s got clamped between its jaws. It’s every bit of the perfect family; Sam swears he can almost smell the apple pie baking in the oven.

“We’re going to get out of your hair,” Peggy explains, and Sam almost feels bad for kicking them out of their own home before Peggy turns again, “We’re taking the twins to their grandparents and then taking Grace and Adam to get ice cream! I’m probably going to regret it once they’re hopped up on sugar and not wanting to sleep tonight, but we don’t sleep anyway with two newborns!” She lets out a hearty laugh that also sounds like she’s dying inside before she leads Sam into the main living area, the sound of footsteps coming up behind him so he turns and immediately feels the temperature increase threefold.

“Hey.”

Sam’s almost embarrassed by how much his voice catches in his throat, but he’s looking James up and down and James is standing with a smile and, God help him, he looks so perfect that Sam might actually cry. He’s going to cry over his crush and he’s not going to care. “Uh, hey,” he repeats, clearing his throat and stepping towards James slowly. He’s not sure what to do with Peggy watching, but he leans closer anyway and brings his hand up to the side of James’ face.

“Hey,” James replies breathily, and it’s him that moves forward and takes the initiative that Sam didn’t have the guts to. He helps him by brushing their lips together and feels the other man smile against his mouth, letting his hand fall down and stroking down his arm gently. “Um, Pegs and Steve are going out but, uh, we can go upstairs for now, if you want to?”

“We’re leaving now, James. Don't worry yourself.”

In the space of seconds, Peggy has her husband and kids rallied around her and they're all waiting for their next move. Two chubby little babies are in car seats and the little girl is watching over them dotingly, the three year old boy tugging on Steve’s arm before he’s lifted with a grunt. Steve gives Sam a nod and a warm smile and Sam figures that all is forgiven for spilling James’ drink over him on their first date.

“Try not to burn down the house, Buck,” Steve jokes as he passes, patting James on the back before picking up one of the car seats. _Huh,_ Sam thinks, _he really is stronger than he looks_. “Enjoy your night, jerk."

Sam’s waiting for the family to say their goodbyes before the front door clicks shut and he and James are left alone, minus the quiet _click click click_ of mucky paws on hardwood floors. He looks around just in time to see the corgi flop down on a mat by the sofa, it's tongue lolling out again and its eyes almost shut as it pants. "What a cutie," Sam grins, James nodding and going to the sound before kneeling down.

"Yeah, she's mine!" he says simply, and Sam's mouth drops open in shock, "This is Elphie. She's my baby."

"Dude, you have a dog?! I knew there was a dog in the house from your photo but you could've mentioned that she was yours," exclaims Sam, kneeling down as well and petting the dogs tummy as she rolls onto her side. "You know, at any time! Screw "you had me at hello", y'all would have had me at "I have a dog!" Not even joking, man."

"Damn, that’s all I would’ve had to do?” James winks, and Sam stands as the other man raises to his feet. “All that hard work, all for nothing.”

"Well, I wouldn't say that."

"Smooth." James motions for Sam to follow him and they make their way through to the family kitchen, Sam's jaw dropping open again as he sets his eyes on the cute little table that James has set and the smell of the food that now hits him square in the gut. "Um, I had some help setting the thing but, I swear, everything else is by my own two hands!" James pauses and gives a small chuckle to himself. "Well, one and a half hands," he adds, waving his left arm and grinning. "Take a seat. I just have a couple of things that need a few more minutes and we can eat, if you like."

Sam sits in the chair closest and drapes his jacket over the back, a bottle of his favourite beer being slid over to him in a blink of an eye before James is back beside the hob. "I've never actually cooked for someone as a date before so I'm not sure what the etiquette is here. Are we meant to chat first and then eat, or do we eat straight away and then- well, whatever, I'm hoping it's eat first because I'm hungry! Ha!"

"Eat!" Sam's starved himself all day for this. He watches James as he dutifully stirs something in a pot, one foot tapping against the tiles and his left arm hanging limply at his side. Sam must admit, the look of James’ arm really had put him out at first, the flesh all warped and mangled looking (and he really did hate himself for thinking of it that way) but now it’s just…it’s just James. It’s bad scarring and three fingers and James telling him over a slice of cake that at least he can still make finger guns. _Pew pew_. “You look good,” Sam finds himself saying, his eyes roaming down James’ body from the black jeans that seem to be his favourite to the deep red henley that he’s wearing over a dark t-shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the seams straining against his build. Sam stands up again and steps beside the other man, looking down into the pot to see some kind of sauce that smells pretty damn amazing. “Can I do anything?”

“Everything’s in the oven,” James smiles, shaking his head and leaning his hip against the side of the counter. His hand comes up slowly and presses flat against Sam’s chest, his thumb running over the material of his shirt before he gives a soft laugh and dips his head. “Hey, uh- um, what are you wearing?” Sam lets out a loud snort before he can stop himself, and James retorts by giving him a hefty slap over his pec. "You know I can't see for shit, asshole!"

"I know, I know!" Sam laughs, batting James' hand away before capturing it in his own and lacing their fingers together. God, it's already _so comfortable_. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Uh, I'm wearing navy jeans, black, and a red, white and blue plaid shirt. I know, how patriotic of me, right? But it fits real good."

"I can tell," James comments, giving a small wink and grinning at Sam warmly. "I know it's kinda weird that I'm asking what you're wearing but, I don't know, I like it. I can't see enough to really make it out. Steve's little girl always tells me in the morning before she goes off to school and it just- I don't even know." James pauses and turns quickly to bend down and check the contents of the oven again, using a glove decorated with small pink flowers and plucking out a small carrot from the tray. "When I first lost my sight, I felt really secluded and, well, scared, to be honest, but one night my friend described literally everything in the room to me and it helped a little. I still do it sometimes." James gives a noncommittal shrug and sighs, pulling the tray out and smiling. "Like when I want to know what my hot date is wearing."

"Hey, anytime," Sam grins, throwing himself back down into the chair as James starts moving again. He wants to give him his space but watches him carefully as he pulls two plates down from the cupboard and sets them on the worktop. He only pauses to make sure that they're not too close to the edge. "So, can you cook then?"

"I'm alright!" James carefully lifts a towel away from a tray but his body blocks whatever else he's doing, a rich, meaty smell wafting through the room as he hums and gives a big sigh. "I was originally going to cook this really tasty Mexican dish that I'm good at but then my friend said we shouldn't eat Mexican food if we're gonna- well, whatever.” James rolls his eyes and sighs. “She put me off the idea and this is my back up!"

As if on cue, James turns around and holds a plate steadily in his good hand and reaches out with his left. His finger tips brush the table and the plate follows it slowly, James making sure it's on a steady surface as Sam stares down at his plate of food with an open jaw. A plump, juicy steak sits at the side and it's so obviously cooked to a perfect medium-rare that Sam's mouth is already watering, his eyes roaming across the veggies laid delicately next to it. There are little honey covered baby carrots along with roasted cherry tomatoes on their vine and potatoes that are crisp at the edges and golden brown in the middle. "Fuck," Sam sighs out, only moving to help James with his chair (the one next to him, not opposite him) and looking from the food to his date repeatedly. "Not only can you cook, man, but you can _cook_!"

"You haven't even tried it yet, Sam."

James' laugh echoes around the kitchen and Sam wants to bottle it up and save it for days when he's not feeling so good, his eyes stuck on the other man as he sets a small jar down and gives a sigh of relief. "I like cooking but I'm glad we're eating now," James admits, relaxing into the chair and bumping their legs together gently. "This is a whisky and mushroom sauce. I'm not that great with sauces but I figured I should make one. Usually I'd just have ketchup with my steak."

Sam pauses everything he is doing and stares at James unwaveringly. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that."

"Pretend away," James replies cheekily, stabbing onto his plate without a care and spearing a potato on the end of his fork, "It happened." James is a loud chewer. He chews loudly, talks with his mouth full and, one time, he put a piece of fruit into his mouth that was so big he couldn't open his jaw further to actually chew the thing. All of that usually points to Sam being at least a little turned off, but he's looking at the man in front of him and can almost see the ring of hearts circling around them like they do in those stupid cartoons he used to watch when he was a kid. "Was your mom okay today?"

"Yeah, she's good. Great, actually. I got her a new coffee table from IKEA and she's happy with it so that's something," Sam says with a shrug, pouring a little swirl of the sauce onto his plate, somewhat decoratively he must say, and setting the jug down where James had left it. "She gets a bit lonely without my Pa there now but Sarah's there tonight for dinner and she'll be going to some lunch tomorrow with a couple of her friends so it's not so bad."

"Sarah's your sister?" James confirms, and Sam nods along before he remembers James can't see. He really is getting better at that.

"Yeah, the one I told you is the big lawyer with the two kids and a dog."

"Ah, the trophy child," James giggles, repeating Sam's earlier words from when they'd talked families previously, "I remember." There's a pause where James fits three baby carrots into his mouth before he's talking again, frowning slightly as he asks, "And you have a brother as well, right?"

Sam sighs heavily and shakes his head, unable to stop the wave of anger that seems to course through him at the mention of his sibling. "Yeah, I do. Gideon. He's, uh, we don't see him very much."

Sam was only seventeen when he told his mama that he was trans, and two days after that they'd sat down together and told the rest of his family. Sarah had jumped for joy because Sam had told her she could have his clothes and whatever else she wanted, before she had asked him what name he was going to choose and "it had better not be something weird like a fruit or something!" He'd been so relieved, so proud that his baby sister was so open at only thirteen, that he'd almost forgotten that his brother and father were sat there. His father, Paul, couldn't look at him, kept his eyes locked on the carpet, while his brother stared at him with an expression that Sam's yet to see again. They'd yelled, they all had. Paul had shouted at Sam to get out of the house, his Ma had shouted to Paul that she'd be leaving too, and Gideon had shouted that Sam was a freak and a disgrace to the family. Sarah had just wanted everyone to stop. That was the first time Sam left the house and didn't return for the whole night. He'd spent the early hours of the morning in a twenty four hour cafe, drinking coffee until he couldn't feel his face and crying his eyes out over the family he broke.

"Uh, he and my dad didn't appreciate my liking guys." It's a white lie, it's true really, but Sam isn't quite ready yet. He needs to figure out his words first. "My dad eventually came around, took a couple of years and a few smacks over the head from my Ma, but Gideon just...we've never been close. In fact, last time I saw him he punched me in the face and broke my nose."

Sam looks up and feels his heart skip a beat into his throat. He could tell him. It would make sense to tell him now and know how this is going to play out.

But he can't. He can't because James is sitting there with big eyes and an expression that doesn't know what to say and, although Sam isn't sure when it happened, their fingers are laced together so tightly that he's sure he can feel James' heartbeat. "It's alright," he forces out, the words coming as though someone has pushed on his chest just so he'll say something. He blinks rapidly and gives a small shrug, his heart battling against his rib cage and echoing in his ears before he speaks up, "I don't mind if he hurts me; I mind that it hurts my ma, you know?”

James gives a small smile and his fingers tighten around Sam’s, turning his hand over and stroking his fingers gently over the inside of his wrist so shivers work their way from the spot just above Sam’s pulse point all the way up to his neck. “I get that,” James mumbles, tickling against Sam’s skin for a few more seconds before he takes his hand back so he can continue eating. “It’s his loss. He probably kicks himself for it now.”

“Oh no, he really doesn’t.” Sam doesn’t even miss a beat there. A snort even leaves him and he shakes his head, popping a tomato into his mouth and making a satisfied noise as it splatters in his mouth. Letting out a soft sigh, he smiles and looks to James as he struggles to cut another piece of his steak. “Is, uh, is your family alright with you being gay?”

“I was really lucky,” James replies immediately, his brow knitting into a frown as he adjusts his hold on his cutlery and tries again, “They said they always suspected it and were just waiting for me to come out to them instead of them dragging it out of me.” He gives a quick shrug and sighs heavily, setting his knife down and taking a drink instead. “I was fifteen. I went home after school one day after being hit across the face and she asked why they’d done it. It just came out like word vomit and she hugged me and we went out for pizza.” His dad isn’t in the picture at all, Sam remembers. “Becca was too young at the time to really care but she’s supportive. Always has been with it, and, um, the accident and everything. I stayed with her for a few weeks after because she's right by the hospital." James pauses and picks up his knife again, prodding around his plate with his pinky until he finds what he’s looking for. It’s round two with the steak, apparently. “I was just talking to her about you, actually.”

The giggle that James gives almost sends Sam into shock, and everything that was once in his head to say seems to fall out entirely as James goes the colour of beets and runs his hand over his hair. "What, um, what did you say?"

"Just told her about our dates and what you're like and what you do and how you make me-" James cuts himself off quickly and feigns clearing his throat, but he really ain't fooling anyone with that. “How you make an effort.” That's definitely not what James was going to say. Not a chance in hell, and Sam knows it, grinning from ear to ear as James focusses his efforts on his food. "Speaking of help, could you?"

Sam doesn't answer verbally. He only shuffles around the table in his chair and takes the cutlery from his date, and when James presses a soft kiss to his chin Sam feels his tummy give a loop-de-loop. He's sure he was aiming for his mouth but you can't win every time, right? They fall into momentary silence and James rests his hand on Sam's thigh, his head dropping onto his shoulder so Sam looks down and appreciates the way his eyelashes fall against his rosy pink cheeks and the way his chest rises and falls so calmly that it's hard not to keep staring. He's nothing that Sam usually looks for, all soft edges and scruff that hasn't been shaved in a few days, but he's everything that Sam wants. He's eating too loud and laughing like he's going to fall, and he's making Sam want to pen one of those silly songs that make people fall in love. And, to think, he doesn't even write. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

“You okay?” James shifts and looks up at him with big eyes, Sam smiling and pushing the cutlery back into the other man’s hands gently. “Thanks. You alright though?” He’s like a dog with a bone; Sam gets lost in thought, and James just doesn’t let it go. God, he needs to tell him. He needs to tell him before it’s too late and they’re in too deep, getting hurt too much. It’s like doing a controlled explosion, just so you can save on the damage.

“I’m alright,” Sam says honestly, because he is. He is alright, but he just really wants to stay that way for a little while longer. "We need to talk, okay?" he says before he can stop himself, pressing his lips to James' clothed shoulder and looking up at him through his eyelashes. "It's not, uh, it's not bad- it's just something we need to discuss."

"Oh," James says shakily, but he nods all the same and swallows so hard that Sam hears the sound emit from him. "Um, okay. Okay. Should, I, uh, ha, should I sit down for this or-?"

Sam gives a small chuckle and shakes his head, his hand running down James arm gently before he slides back into his own space. "Nah, man," he sighs, picking up his own fork again and stabbing one of those delicious little carrots, "And let's finish dinner first. It's too good to let it just sit here any longer."

"Uh, okay, if you're sure, I guess. S'your call." For once, Sam is relieved that James isn't pushing this time. He simply gives a small shrug and prods his fork into three squares of steak at once, his knee continuing to bump into Sam's and his eyes fixed somewhere just above his plate. There's a silence that's not of their usual comfort but Sam can't think of anything to fill it, wondering if it's worth just blurting everything out and taking whatever fall comes. "Hey, um, can I ask you something right now?" James doesn't even wait for an answer before he continues, even if there's a hint of nerves in his voice as he speaks up again while trying to nonchalantly stab another carrot. "Are you, ah, are you seeing anyone? I mean, are you seeing anyone else? Dates, or whatever? Dates, drinks, relationships, sex, whatever?"

Sam can't help but to give a smile at that. He can tell what James wants the answer to be just by the way he's acting, feeling those damn butterflies turn to eagles in his tummy as he shakes his head. "Nah," he replies honestly, and he sees the tension seem to deflate out of James like a balloon. "Haven't even been on Tinder or anything since two days after our first date. That’s basically a record for me, man.“ That's another truth. It's also why he's horny as fuck, has almost worn out one of his favourite toys, and has came with a couple of fingers and the thought of James a grand total of six times now. Sam's not sure now is the right time to divulge that information, however. "Why'd you ask?"

"Do you want to maybe…eh, be together?" James asks, and his cheeks go dark once again that night. Considering how confident he'd seemed on their first date, sometimes it still surprises Sam how awkward and nervous James can be. It's all the more reason to fall for him really, the way he looks down towards the floor and goes bright red like a five year old being told off. "Let's face it. I have it on good sources that you're terribly cute and I'm definitely _tragically_ cute, so why don't we just be cute together? It makes perfect sense to me!" _There he is_.

Sam can't help the laugh that escapes him. It makes his gut hurt and he holds onto it as he throws his head back, swinging back on the old wooden chair he's sat on as the giggle echoes around the kitchen. "You know," Sam chuckles, swinging back down into all fours and bringing his hand up to James' shoulder, "I think that's the best idea you've ever had."

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely." Sam gently takes the other man's face in his hands and his thumb strokes over his cheekbone, fingers smoothing over rough stubble as he presses their lips together softly. He tastes like red wine and honey and like all of Sam's dreams have come true, the both of them sighing contently into the kiss so Sam feels his warm breath ghost over his face. When they part, they're both breathless. James more so. "You alright over there?"

"What can I say, you take my breath away." How Sam has the willpower not to make fun of James for being so cheesy, he’ll never know. “Eat up,” James laughs, almost accidentally stabbing Sam in the hand with his fork as he moves to gather the last bites of his dinner, “We still have dessert to get through, Sammy.”

God, Sam’s always hated that nickname - Sarah is the worst for it, calling him Sammy _just_ because she knows it annoys him - but, coming from James’ mouth, it sounds like the most beautiful word in the world. He listens to James’ battles with a delicious chocolate fondue cake that “just wouldn’t fondue” for him, resulting in five extra cakes that he’s going to have to either eat or try to pawn off on someone. He finds that he’s also made a plain vanilla ice cream to go with it, but also bought two tubs of Ben and Jerry’s…just in case. They eat it while drinking their way through a bottle of wine and talking about sending people to Mars, and what their best Halloween costume has been, followed by a quick game of _Would You Rather?_ that they both loved. Sam is definitely a go to the bottom of the ocean, have the ability to fly, live ten one hundred year lives, go two hundred years to the future, and have hands for feet kind of guy. It really is funny how much you can learn about someone through a silly little game, even if Sam is questioning James' answers to some of the questions. They're still half playing as James begins to clear up, the man answering questions while simultaneously telling Sam "to sit his ass down" and let him clean up in peace.

"But you cooked! It's only polite that I do the dishes!" Sam protests but his words fall onto deaf ears, leaving him to watch the way James' shoulders tense as he bends over the sink and scrubs plate after plate until they're shining and sparkling and smelling of Tropical Lime Twist. At first, Sam keeps watching and wonders if he should shove James out of the way anyway and do them himself, before his mind wanders and he’s back to thinking about what he wants to talk about. His dinner threatens to make a reappearance as a wave of butterflies take over his stomach and, this time, they’re not the good kind. They’re the kind that come and go fleetingly but leave him feeling sick in their wake, his hand tight around his drink so he has to make a conscious effort to relax his grip lest the glass shatter.

Sighing heavily, Sam stands up and paces around the kitchen quietly, eyes scanning over the pictures stuck to the wall with old, wooden frames. There’s one of Steve, Peggy and their little girl, one of those professionally taken ones that look maybe a little too cheesy, and there’s another one of them where they’re dressed up for Christmas. Grace is wearing a pretty royal blue dress while Peggy and Steve wear the most horrendous Christmas jumpers Sam’s ever seen in his life. He can’t help the snort that escapes him. There are more and more pictures as more kids are added to their family: one of their little boy, Adam, sitting in his high chair with spaghetti all over him, another of James holding Grace who’s holding Adam when he had to be just a few weeks old, and another, a brand new one, of the twin babies being held by their parents. It’s the perfect little family, Sam thinks, and he’s confused by how much he suddenly wants that.

“Cute pictures,” he says with a clear of his throat, stepping back as James raises his head and nods. He’s never thought about kids that much; he always figured it would be something that would happen if it happened, and if it didn’t then he wasn’t all that bothered. But the older he gets, the more he realises that maybe he wants to be a dad and wants to raise a kid with someone he loves. 

“They’re big on the photos,” James laughs, placing the dish into the rack and reaching for the last of the pots. “There are a whole bunch in the house. I always tell them to keep me outta them but they don’t always listen!”

Sam’s going to make it his mission to find those ones. “Why would they? You’re gorgeous,” he comments, stepping up behind James and wrapping his arms around his waist as the other man seems lost in thought. He presses his lips to James’ clothed shoulder and lets out a heavy sigh of contentment, closing his eyes and letting his forehead drop down as his mind goes into overdrive again. His heart is racing, his back is beginning to sweat, and all the words he wants to say are threatening to come out all in once. He wishes both that it was already over and that he could stretch minutes into hours just so he has a few more minutes, so he has more time to prepare for potentially losing something he barely even has.  
“Sam?”

“Hm?” Sam brings his head up in time for James to turn around, their tummies pressing together as James’ hands come up and pull Sam’s arms down. Their hands link, quiet takes them, and Sam feels dizzy.

“You’re thinking too loud,” James whispers, freeing his right hand and bringing it up to the back of Sam’s neck to massage the area gently. “You alright?”  
“S'rich coming from you," Sam jokes, because he knows something is going on behind James' eyes that he quite can't see. He wants to ask, wants to make sure he's okay, but James is waiting and he said he needed to talk. "Can we, uh, can we go somewhere private- um, maybe,” Sam stutters, letting out a shaky breath and smiling, “Just in case Steve and Peggy come back?”

James only nods without saying anything and slips his hand into Sam’s, feeling with his other arm and leading Sam through the now too big house. It seems to take forever to make their way through the living room, up some stairs, through a hallway, and into the place that Sam guesses is just James’. It’s bigger than he thought it would be, enough for a decent sized open plan bedroom, kitchenette, and a living room with a big window at the front, with what Sam guesses is a small bathroom tucked away at the side. There’s a line of succulents on the sill and a massive dog bed in the corner, large enough to fit at least four Elphies plus maybe a chihuahua. Everything is laid out perfectly and tucked away where it should be, his shoes lined up by the mirror, his remotes for the television placed meticulously on the coffee table, and his white cane leaning against the wall by the light switch. With hardwood floors, dark green walls, fluffy pillows covering the bed and sofa, and bright fairy lights hung up on one wall, the place is the kind of cosy that isn’t too claustrophobic.

“Make yourself at home,” James smiles, but there’s no hiding the nervousness in his voice. “Damn, I didn’t bring our drinks up.” Sam sits down gingerly on the sofa and finds himself sinking into it, the beat up old thing seeming to suck him into its cushions so he never wants to leave. “I’ll go get-”

“No, stay.” Sam’s built himself up so much that he thinks he might explode if he doesn’t get this over with. He catches James’ hand as he makes to leave and yanks him down onto the sofa, the both of them giggling but it’s short lived. It’s as though they can both sense the storm coming and they’re just waiting for the first clap of thunder, Sam swallowing down hard and suddenly wishing he _did_ have a drink just so he has something to do with his hands. “There’s something I need to tell you, alright? Something about myself that I want you to know because- because I really like you and you seem to like me too.”

“Stating the obvious there, Sam,” James chuckles, and Sam wants to shove his hand over his mouth just so he’ll shut up for five minutes. If he’s interrupted, there’s a good chance he’ll just quit and say maybe another time. God, it’s so much easier over a text to a quick hookup. The simple life.

“I’m trans.” The two words blurt out of Sam’s mouth before he can stop himself and it’s not the eloquent, graceful way that he had first imagined, and, in that moment, he actually understands what it was like to have your blood run cold. His body seems to freeze as the words hit James, and then warm up one hundred degrees when he sees the realisation cross the other man’s face. He sees his eyes widen and his mouth open, his eyes locked somewhere near Sam’s shoulder as he sits motionless. “I was- uh, _shit_.” Sam runs his hands over his hair and blows a puff of air out, elbows leaning on his knees and his head falling into his shaking hands. “I was, um, I was assigned female at birth.”

Sam doesn’t want to look around but he catches James nodding in the corner of his eye. He doesn’t say anything, _please say something_ , only nods and bites his lower lip between his teeth. Seconds seem to expand into hours, just like Sam wanted, but Sam’s never wanted time to pass more. He waits, and he waits, and he waits, probably only for ten seconds or so, but those ten seconds make him feel as though he’s about to go grey.

“I see,” James finally replies, before he giggles and shrugs while gesturing to his face, “Well, not literally.” _God, this man is going to be the death of me_. Before he knows it, James’ hand is finding his own and he gives it a hard squeeze, his fingers cracking at the pressure but he’s never craved it more. “It doesn’t matter.” James shakes his head and Sam can feel the tears welling up beneath his eyelids. If he blinks, they’ll come crashing down. “Or more, it matters because it’s important to you but it doesn’t- uh, how to- um, you’re still Sam? You’re Sam and, like you said, I really fucking like you.”

“Are you- are you serious?” Sam finds himself asking suddenly, his back straightening and his voice catching in his throat as he holds onto James’ hand for dear life. “Do- do you not want time to think about it or…or something?” _I- I need time to think about it_ , one guy had said, and he hadn’t called again. _If I have to live with it then fine_ , another had said, and Sam had left because he didn’t want someone to “have” to do anything. The worst had been the guy who was Sam’s first “thing” after transitioning, who had learned the deepest parts of him and then sexualised him so much that Sam had taken a shower so hot that he had given himself first degree burns on his back. _The boiler must’ve broken_ , Sam had told the kind nurse who had looked at him with a look he never wanted to see again.

“What is there to think about?” James scoffs, shifting his body around and running his hand up Sam’s arm to find the side of his neck. “I like _you_ , Sam.” James presses their foreheads together and it’s then that Sam feels a tear roll all too dramatically down his cheek, bringing a hand up to quickly wipe it away in the hope that James doesn’t feel it but- “It’s okay.” James presses the lightest of kisses to his forehead and smiles, his eyes struggling to fix on Sam due to the darkness around them. “You’re still you, right?” And that was that. “You’re still you.”

Sam doesn’t know what to say. He’s frozen in time as James sits in front of him with his eyes fixed somewhere near his shoulder and his soft hand still holding the side of his neck so gently. His thumb strokes over his jawline and he can feel himself pressing into the touch, leaning forward slowly and closing the gap so their lips brush together and a soft gasp escapes from James. He's pulling Sam to him in an instant, their lips moving slowly together and the both of them shuffling their bodies around like impatient teenagers, Sam's arm coming around James waist to yank him even closer. His hands gently run down the body in front of him, over soft fabric and rough jeans, before they slip beneath the hemline of James' shirt to feel warm skin and soft edges. He can feel his lungs beginning to burn from the lack of oxygen but he's not going to be the first one to part, instead bringing a hand up to James' hair and fiddling with the hair tie that's holding everything together. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the most suave of ideas.

"How the hell do you get this thing out?" he finally mutters, splitting away with a gasp and a fast heart as he struggles to untie his boyfriend's hair. _Should've just left it_ , Sam chuckles to himself. "God."

"It gets stuck on the charms," James laughs, bringing his own hand up and yanking the tie free carelessly. He pulls out a good clump of hair along with it but doesn't seem to mind, throwing it to the side as those long locks fall down towards his waist. "I bet you ten bucks you'll get a mouthful of this before the night's out."

"Worth it.” James throws the colourful little tie to the side and it clangs down on the coffee table, before Sam is taking his chance and swooping forward without taking a breath. One arm comes around James’ waist and the other moves up to his hair, running his fingers through those long, dark locks and thanking the heavens that he’s finally getting to do that. Sam is gentle as he presses James back, easing him down onto the sofa so his head rests on the arm and Sam can kneel quite comfortably between his legs. It helps that one of James' is firmly planted on the floor, James’ hand coming up to his side and holding onto him so there’s no chance that two full grown men will fall off the not ideally sized sofa. “You comfortable?”

“M'alright,” James replies, before he lets out a shaky laugh and smiles, “God. My heart is racing, Sam. Jesus.” Sam brings a lone hand down and presses it to the broad chest in front of him, feeling the heavy _thump thump thump_ beneath his fingertips and knowing that James isn’t exaggerating. He smoothes over the material that’s stopping him from getting skin on skin and his hand snakes up to James’ neck, feeling his pulse stronger there and leaning down to crash their lips together once more. It’s all teeth and a bitten tongue but neither of them seem to mind, James’ hands coming to his back and tracing over his hips and spine like he’s made of nothing short of pure gold. They only part when James backs away and takes a big gulp of air, his mouth still curved into a smile and, considering how kiss swollen his lips are now, it looks positively filthy. “We need- we need to, ugh, god, we need to talk more about this,” he quips, catching his breath and running his hands over Sam’s arms that are planted firmly on his chest. "And, um, about other things too. I gotta tell-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Sam agrees, nodding his head quickly and catching James' bottom lip with his finger. He's been fretting about coming out all day and it's over in the matter of minutes, even if he knows many conversations are yet to come and not all of them will be comfortable. "Now?" he asks, just to be sure.

When James shakes his head, the relief that washes over Sam is like a warm shower on a too cold day. _Thank god_ , Sam thinks, because James is beneath him and his cheeks are reddening, his lips are swollen, and he’s still got the dopiest smile on his face that Sam wants to memorise the lines of. “Can I-“ God, he feels like a school kid all over again, his head dipping down to lean on James’ shoulder before he brings it up and continues. “Can I touch you?” he asks quietly, and it’s the first time he’s asked anyone that in a long time. Or, at least, it’s the first time he’s asked it without already being pressed up against a wall himself. James pauses and seems to think for a moment, Sam’s heart sinking but- “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’m always up for a movie and that tub of Ben and Jerry’s that you bought.”

“No, you can,” James replies with a nod, his hand holding onto Sam’s forearm lightly as he speaks. “I just- I haven’t been with anyone since- well, everything. I haven’t- um, I’m still getting used to some things." James looks sad all at once. "I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You ain’t gonna do that,” Sam smirks, gently stroking over James’ cheek and taking a few minutes to just…understand. He’s always thought that sight is very important for sex; it’s important to see your partner, to know that they’re there, to see what they’re doing, to watch as they please you and you please them and they please themselves. James has lost that, and Sam realises that he’s never had a chance to explore again until now. “Do you need me to do anything?” he asks, figuring it’s easier than just guessing. Easier, wiser, kinder.

James smirks, and it's the kind of smirk that makes Sam want to wipe it right off his face. "Just touch me before I think about it too much," he says, hands continuing to stroke up and down Sam's arms before they settle around his waist once more. He never once stops the contact, sharp nails leaving little crescent moon indents and calloused fingers beginning to map out every inch of him.

"Honestly." Sam shakes his head but can't keep the smile off his face. His cheeks are hurting and his jaw is beginning to cramp, but _he just can't stop_. "Here I am trying to be all considerate and a decent human being and there you are all Mr Impatient all of a sudden." Sam stops himself there and decides enough is enough, one hand finally tugging up the material of the shirts James is wearing so pale, somewhat scarred skin finally comes into view. There's a nasty looking scar on the left, just beneath his belly button, and a healing bruise stretching across the bone of his hip, angry yellow and purple shining against his skin like paint. His eyes are drawn towards the surgical looking star down his tummy but he knows better than to ask about it now, instead smirking at the nice little happy trail leading into his pants and, Sam has to say, it makes him very very happy indeed. "Can I take this off?" he asks, pinging at the material that's just a little too _there_ right now.

James snaps up and yanks it off himself, throwing it to the side without a thought so it lands in the dog bed and will probably be made into a blanket pretty soon. It's only when he lies back again that he wavers, his cheeks pinking up and his breathing becoming a little shaky. It's a look of anxiety that's still a little excited. "I'm still okay," he promises, even if his voice shakes a little "Are you?"

"Perfect." Sam looks over the man in front of him and can't help the noise that comes out of his mouth, like he's just seen the most delicious piece of cake in the world and he'll be damned if he isn't gonna eat it. His pecs aren't quite pecs and his abs definitely aren't abs, a soft, squishy tummy meeting Sam's fingers as he tickles over the spots he's not yet met. Surprisingly, James is pretty smooth from the waist up. He's got another scar between two of his ribs and surgical scars around his shoulder, long pink lines that have those little dots where the thread has sewed him together again. Honestly, that's always fascinated Sam. The scarring on his left arm seems to blend into one, appearing not as scars but as part of the man that Sam is slowly but surely falling for. “Hey, do you, um, do you have lube or something? Lotion?”

"I do," James grins, and he sits up so fast that Sam almost topples over entirely. "Up, up!" James hand is tight around his wrist as they both stand and seem to sway a little, alcohol and adrenaline coursing through their bodies so Sam's knees feel as though they're going to buckle into each other. "Bed." James gets his bearings by feeling along the edge of the sofa and pulls Sam along with him, making his way over to the bed that's pressed up into the corner and spinning them around so he can push Sam down with a small _oof_. Their hands finally part and James pulls open his bedside drawer, moving random objects out of the way before producing a bottle that's got three elastics tied around its middle. "This is all I got," James explains, moving to kneel on the bed and throwing it down. “I have condoms but, uh, can we, uh, can-”

“Let’s wait.” The words come out of Sam’s mouth before he’s really even decided but, thinking about it, it seems like the right choice. He wants to take this slow, and he wants to spend a whole day charting every millimetre of James’ body. He wants to give him candles that are able to catch in what little vision he has and music that he likes, even if that’s Carly Rae Jepsen and her catchy as fuck pop tunes. (Sam’s ashamed to admit it, but he’s been playing her songs for a month straight now. Maybe it’s because he honestly does like them, but maybe it’s partly because of a certain someone as well.) "Down the road, I have a wide range of phallic shaped toys in a variety of colours and sizes, just for your pleasure...if that's something you're into." Sam winks, James crawling towards him so Sam takes a moment to yank his belt loops to pull him down. "How often you hear your guy say that, huh?"

James laughs so loud and that Sam jumps, before they’re both rolling on the bed with their ribs hurting and their tummies shaking from the giggles. A few tears escape from James’ eyes from laughing so hard and they’re the most beautiful thing Sam’s ever seen, wiping them away with a quick swipe of his finger and patting his shoulder in a feigned comfort. “That’s good to know...maybe one day,” James grins breathlessly, turning over so they’re side by side and facing each other and reaching out with a timid hand. There’s a moment where they’re both just staring, catching their breaths, before James speaks up quietly, “Is it alright if _I_ touch _you_?”

“You better.” That’s all that James needs as his hand comes out and finds Sam’s hip, moving upwards and ruffling the material of his shirt so it slides up and reveals smooth, dark skin in its wake. “You want it off?” Sam asks before he gasps loudly and lets out a breath, because James’ hands are tickling at his sides and he might actually smack him in the face if he doesn’t stop. “Tickle me again, and I’ll push you off this damn bed.”

“I’d like to see you try…” James pulls at the hem of Sam’s shirt before he remembers that it’s a button down, moving to the middle and unbuttoning one at a time. He gets to the third up before his left hand seems to cramp and he squeezes it into a tight fist, Sam silently covering it with his own and popping open his buttons easily. “Thanks.”

“No bother.” His chest is bare in front of James for the first time and he hates that he thinks it’s easier because he can’t see, but he’s seen people trailing their eyes over his scars one too many times for him to be okay with it. A careful hand moves up his side and he shudders at the touch, bringing a leg up to hook over James’ so they’re linked together by their feet. “Let me just…” With a few grunts and pulls at his sleeves, Sam yanks the shirt off properly and lets it fall to the ground, before he’s pushed onto his back and a soft hand runs over his chest. He understands that James needs to do this, he needs to feel instead of see, but that doesn’t mean that his heart isn’t hammering and that there isn’t a giant lump in his throat as he tries to gauge James’ reaction.

A careful finger runs over the obvious scars just below his pecs and Sam thinks that he might pass out, the quietness consuming him so he’s thinking, and thinking, and thinking, and- god, James is thumbing his nipple so perfectly that if he wasn’t turned on already he definitely is now. “Easy, easy,” he laughs, throwing his head back so it sinks into the cushions on the bed and letting out a sigh, “They’re pretty sensitive.”

“In good way or a bad way?” James asks, and that’s the first time anyone since Riley and that one guy who’d made him breakfast in the morning has asked him that.

Sam has to think about it for a few seconds, still. “Good on the right, bad on the left,” he replies, and immediately James is focussing all of his efforts on the right side and Sam is biting his lip to stop from yelling out. _This seems like a nice neighbourhood_ , he thinks, the neighbours probably don’t want to hear the filth that comes out of his mouth during sex. He can feel the warmth that’s beginning to gather between his legs and moans out softly as James presses a soft kiss just below his ear, only turning to face him when he realises he hasn’t returned the favour in a while. His hand runs down James’ side before he’s cupping his ass, giving it a squeeze and raising an eyebrow. “You been squattin’, bro?” he jokes, and that cracks them both up all over again. They’re all disjointed touches and lips that never quite meet together, instead necks, shoulders, jaws, collarbones, ribs being littered in small pecks and gentle licks.

“Mm Sam,” James finally sighs, burying his head into Sam’s neck and smiling so Sam feels the gentle touch against his skin, “Touch me. You can touch me.”

Sam’s moving in an instant. He shifts onto his knees and settles between James’ legs, hands rubbing the insides of his thighs before his fingers reach for the little metal button on his jeans. “Can I?” he asks curiously, James nodding with that same dopey grin from before he mumbles for Sam to keep touching him. “Anything you want.” Sam moves upwards and holds himself above James, their bare chests pressed together so their heartbeats seem to battle for who can be the strongest. Sam thinks James might win that one. He smacks his lips onto his boyfriend’s once again and his tongue slips inside, kissing into his mouth and swallowing down his moans as his fingers work open James’ button and fly. It’s when the zipper slides down that James presses up into his touch, Sam slipping his hand into his pants and wondering how the night had turned out like this.

“Jesus.” James gasps out as soon as Sam touches him. He’s rubbing him through the soft material of his underwear and can already feel that he’s hard and leaking, James practically shaking beneath him as Sam attaches his lips to his sweating neck. He’s biting and nibbling and sucking, it’s probably going to leave a mark, and James’ arm curls up so he can stroke his fingers over his hair. “Leave a mark?" he asks hesitantly, swallowing down and looking a little embarrassed and more than a little unsure. "Bite me, scratch me.” Sam’s eyebrows raise at that. He pauses and he knows James can sense him looking at him, giving a grin as he continues with a nervous laugh, “Don’t kink shame me, asshole.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam grins, glad that he’s with someone who likes hickeys on necks, scratches on backs, and bruises from holding on so hard, fingerprints dotted around on hips and thighs aching to sit down on. He’s busy creating a masterpiece on James’ neck when he thrusts his own hips forward, his packer hitting his own hand and James’ crotch so the friction immediately sends a spark through his body. He lets out a small gasp and does it again, rubbing himself on James as he strokes the other man through the thin fabric. “Fuck, can I take these off?” he asks, simply because denim isn’t the best thing to get yourself off on.

James nods quickly and lifts his hips as Sam hurriedly pushes them down, leaving James to kick them off the rest of the way so they gather at the bottom of the bed in a heap. “C’mere,” James adds, his throat already dry yet sticky as he speaks. His fingers fumble with the zipper on Sam’s own pants and Sam takes the initiative to get them off the rest of the way, the two of them now lying in only their underwear and socks so the air meeting their warm bodies makes them shiver. Sam’s glad that he’s wearing his good underwear today, not that it really matters. They’re the real cute kind with red material, white piping on the seams and the little part in the front that holds his packer just right. Not to mention, they make his ass look impeccable. “You’re, uh, you’re gonna have to tell me what you like,” admits James, running his hand down Sam’s chest to his tummy. His fingers circle his navel and Sam chuckles, James stroking over the line of hair that he has just below it.

“Give me your hand,” Sam suggests, and he pushes away the nervous butterflies to make way for the excited ones. They’re much more pleasant and seem to be beating a tune inside of his body. Something upbeat, something that make people sing in the rain and click their heels together. He takes James’ right hand before he stops and lets it go. “Wait.” It takes him only a few seconds to pull out his packer and throw it to the side, the silicon smacking against the wall and flopping down onto the floor.

“What was that?”

“My packer,” Sam replies, and he hopes that James isn’t put off by that.

But he only smiles and nods. “Alright. Just, uh, make sure you pick that up though because Elphie _will_ chew it if she gets the chance.” God, Sam is wincing at the mere thought of it but can’t bring himself to move. He figures maybe it’s worth a chewed up silicon appendage if he gets to be like this with James for longer, leaning down and pressing another hard kiss to James’ lips so their teeth clang and he feels the other man’s breath ghost across his face. “Sam,” James sighs with a smile, his right hand pressed flat to Sam’s chest before it’s held once more, “I’m dying over here.”

Sam doesn’t waste any more time. He takes James’ hand, squirts a blob of lube onto his fingers, and pulls it down between their bodies, raising his hips and adjusting his knees so he can half-kneel and not be so restricted. He goes slowly, giving both himself and James time, before their fingers dip below the waistband of his cute as hell underwear. “Use two,” he whispers, and feels James’ hand shift into position, “Not too hard for now.” Moving just an inch or so further, James’ fingers brush over the head of his dick and he gives a full body jolt at the contact. "Easy, just..." Sam moves James' fingers in a lazy circular motion and presses down into the touch, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he moves his hand back to James' cock. "Just like that."

“Fuck, Sam,” James chokes out, and his left arm sprawls out across the mattress so his three fingers curl into the blankets for something solid to hold onto. He seems to be concentrating intently and Sam registers the way his fingers move in one way, don't get a reaction, so move another to continue the small, circling motions that are making Sam flush from his hairline to his toes. He dips his head down and finds James’ mouth, sucking on his lower lip and biting down so the other man moans and sighs contently. His hand is still moving over his cock, gentle and teasing as he uses his thumb to rub just below the head. “Mm keep doing that, keep doing th- shit.”

“You gonna come?” Sam asks with a smirk, leaning down and nibbling on James’ earlobe so it turns bright red and hot. “You gonna come for me, baby?” His blows over the mark he made and James’ back arches on the bed, his fingers pausing as his eyes squeeze shut tightly.

“Want to last longer,” James pants out, but Sam’s not stopping. He’s grinning from ear to ear as he leans up and swats James’ hand away from him, shifting to lean across both his thighs and finally taking his cock out of his underwear. Usually he likes to get a good look, he’s not going to lie, but right now he’s watching the way James’ mouth falls open and his hands both reach up to the pillow beneath his head. He’s holding onto it for dear life and pulls the corners around his ears as he fights against the feeling that’s so obviously building up inside of him, not realising that Sam is popping open the lube and jumping when a cold splatter lands on his tummy. Sam could watch for days as he wraps his hands around James’ cock and strokes upwards in slick motions, flicking his wrist and paying particular attention to the tip simply because it seems to send James crazy. “M’not gonna last if you keep-”

“Sssh,” Sam soothes, moving one to himself and rubbing himself through his underwear so the wet, sticky patch grows beneath his fingertips. They’re already wrecked anyway, so what does it matter? “Come on. Come on, Jamie, let go.” And that’s all it takes for James to arch his back once more and come undone entirely, thick, white stripes painting his stomach and splattering up onto his chest and a loud yell echoing around the little apartment. “That’s it, yes, yes!” Sam grins, keeping his hand moving and smoothing his thumb over the head of James’ cock so his boyfriend shudders and jolts and digs his feet into the mattress of the bed so hard that Sam dips down. "God, you're beautiful."

“Ah!” James gasps out, Sam teasing him once more before a hand flaps at his hand and pushes him away with a soft laugh. “Fuck, shit. Fuck.” James’ hand is still hovering over his own cock as if he’s daring Sam to touch him again, his entire body shaking and oversensitive as he brings his other hand to his chest and gasps out for oxygen. His chest and tummy rises and falls with each breath and his eyes are firmly closed, slowly bringing his hand up and pressing it to his forehead lightly. “Damn. I’m shaking.”

Sam can see that, trembling fingers and shivering thighs catching his eyes as he looks over the man in front of him. “Aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes?” Sam quips, taking in the way James’ hair surrounds him like a halo and how his fingers stretch to reach down for him. They gently brush over his legs and Sam moves up to press a messy kiss onto his lips, stubble rubbing into his skin and burning but, to him, it’s never felt more right.

“Is that…” James begins, slowing his breathing down as they part and holding Sam by the back of the neck, “Is that supposed to be a joke?” He doesn’t wait for a reply before Sam’s being pushed onto his back, a strong hand using him as leverage for James to get on his knees and change positions. “Your turn,” he says simply and, although the poor guy kneeling there covered in his own come and sweat, Sam’s never been more turned on. “Tell me what you want,” he says quietly, and Sam’s mind goes wild with the possibilities. More than anything, he’d love to flip James over and ride him into the sunset…but he’s saving that for another time. He wants to be eaten out like its James’ last meal, with his legs around James’ head and his voice course from yelling so much. He wants to flip James over again and pound into him like he’s trying to save the world through his efforts. God, he wants it all and he wants it now but- “Finger me?” he suggests, and James nods without a second thought.

His hand finds Sam’s warm chest and he explores from his nipples to his belly button, teasingly tickling down his sides before gentle fingers stroke just above his crotch and Sam’s suddenly relieved he spent the time to tidy up down there that morning. He looks up and sees James waiting patiently, as if he's waiting for further permission, or instruction, and it's then that Sam figures that he probably is. "C'mere," Sam mumbles and he makes grabby hands towards his boyfriend, brushing against his leg and clawing at him until he gets the hint to move upwards. 

A heavy body flops down onto Sam and he’s met with James smiling down at him from only inches away, the other man seeming to shrink into himself as his hand strokes just above the neat triangle of hair between his legs. “Don’t wanna hurt you,” James whispers, and Sam would face palm if he wasn’t so caught up in everything else. Bless some people, really. “M’new at this…”

“What? Vagina?” Sam asks bluntly, and when James blushes he rolls his eyes and lets out a laugh. “Well, this is a practical course so buckle in, big boy.” His hand moves to the back of James’ neck and he pulls him down for another kiss, the both of them bending awkwardly as his other hand wanders to find James’ right. “Two fingers again,” Sam orders into the kiss, speaking so quietly that he barely even hears himself say the words. He knows he’s relaxed enough, and he knows he’s wet enough, because he can feel the slickness at the tops of his thighs and the massive wet patch that’s on the sheets beneath his ass. He moves their hands down and feels as James’ fingertips slip between his lips only just, brushing over the more sensitive areas so little fireworks seem to erupt away from the spot in waves. He doesn’t stop and lifts his hips as he finds his entrance, giving a nod against James’ forehead and letting him take the reigns now, so to speak.

“Let me know what you want, what makes you feel good,” request James, and he pushes his fingers in perhaps a centimetre more and Sam lets out a low, guttural groan. Fuck, just like I imagined, Sam thinks to himself, a dazed grin expanding across his face. James’ fingers are long and thick and fill him up just right and, for a fleeting second, Sam can’t help but to wonder what it’s going to be like when it’s his cock. “This alright?”

“Move ‘em.” It’s less of an asking and more of a command, Sam grinding his hips down onto James’ hand before his own fingers move downwards as well. He waits, and waits, until James pumps his fingers in and out, in and out, and runs over that little spot inside of him that makes everything feel just so much better. It’s not the big jolt like he hears about sometimes, it’s a soft slide over gentle areas that make his stomach pull and his walls constrict so the pressure only adds to the feeling. “Do this with your fingers,” Sam says with a gasp, holding his hand up for a second and doing the classic "come hither" motion.

It’s only when James stops and looks in his direction with an “are you fucking kidding me?” look on his face that Sam realises what he just did. “ _Dude._ ”

“Shit, sorry,” Sam laughs, patting his boyfriend on the back and fuck- he’ll stop doing that soon, he swears. “This.” He does the motion on James’ arm and soon feels the movements inside of him change, gentle fingers moving in rhythm against that spot so Sam lets out another moan and curls his head towards the pillow, if only to muffle the sounds that are going to escape out of him. He’s loud, and he’s not going to deny it. “Keep doing that,” he pants out, and he can feel a bead of sweat annoyingly running down the side of his neck. "Oh god, fuck."

Moving his own fingers down again, he brushes them over the head of his dick and his entire body seems to shake, knowing that he’s not going to last long at all. Using his thumb and forefinger, he strokes his dick between them and thanks the gods for allowing him to get big enough that he can actually do that. He’s got less of a clit now, and more of a tiny little penis. It may be small but, damn, it may just be his favourite part of his body. Minus his ass, of course. “Mm, fuck, Jamie, don’t stop,” Sam begs, his free hand coming out and holding onto James as if he’s scared he’s going to disappear. “Don't stop. A little harder. Harder, pl- ah, please, God.”

“It’s James, actually.” Sam wants to punch him in the face. He actually wants to punch this perfect man in his perfect face just to get him to stop making cheesy jokes.

It really is too bad that his hands are just a tad busy right now. “I hate you,” he manages to squeeze out, and he feels that sensation building up inside of him like a champagne bottle about to be let loose. He swears he hears James say something else but his own pulse is echoing in his ears, blood swooshing around so hard that nothing else matters other than the feeling of James’ fingers so perfect inside of him. Turning his head back into the pillow, Sam’s hips gyrate onto James’ hand and those fingers continue their magic on that spot inside, the sensation building, and building, and building until his feet are digging into the mattress and his whole body is turning taut.

Sam’s moans echo around the room as he comes, feeling himself tighten around his boyfriend’s fingers in strong pulses and curling his hand into the sheets of the bed for something to hold onto. His vision seems to grey and, for a second, he thinks he’s gonna pass out, a soft hand searching up his chest to play with his nipple just to add to, well, everything. “Oh shit, oh shit, fuck, ” he squeaks out, his voice going embarrassingly high as James rubs him through his orgasm gently. It’s all soft, slow strokes, but it’s just too much. “God, stop, stop, stop!” Sam yells out, before he’s laughing and wiping away happy tears from the corners of his eyes. He bats James’ hand away and curls his legs into himself, his whole centre oversensitive so even moving makes him want to die. It would be the happiest death ever, but all the same. “Fuck, Jamie…” Sam is sweating and panting and can feel his orgasm still running through him, taking the chance to tease his dick once more with a gentle finger and letting out a soft chuckle. "Fuck."

James gives the most shit-eating grin in the world and moves to sit up with his legs crossed beneath him, looking quite happy with himself with red cheeks, messy hair, and come still matted into that little happy trail as Sam tries to calm himself down. He’s quick in reaching into his bedside drawer and pulling out a pack of wipes, using a grand total of seven to get everything off both Sam and himself before he’s just sitting, staring into space with his hand planted on Sam's leg. Sam doesn’t even both saying anything as he yanks him down again and holds him to him, James’ head resting on his shoulder with his left arm coming to lie across his tummy. They’re sticky and sweaty and, just like James had said, Sam is getting a mouthful of hair from the position they’re in, but he wouldn't change it for the world.

“Hey Sam?” James finally says after a while in silence, Sam looking down to where James is stroking a finger over one of his scars. He’s been mapping out his chest for the better part of twenty minutes now, drawing circles and waves onto lines that Sam can't see. “Do these hurt?" His finger brushes over one of his scars so lightly that it tickles. "Are you in pain?”

“Nah,” Sam answers honestly, shaking his head and resting back into the pillow. There’s one spot that’s a little more tender than the others, but it’s nothing to write home about. “They’re pretty numb, for the most part.” James nods and seems satisfied at that, Sam lifting his head again to watch as he runs a lone finger over each of his ribs. Along one, along another, back one, back another. 

It’s now, when he’s really paying attention, that Sam notices the way that James’ left hand doesn’t really bend, and his wrist seems to be double the size from what it was earlier. He knows that it has to hurt, that it has to be agony, his heart sinking as he stops James from moving and traces the deep scarring over his boyfriend’s arm. He can feel the bones and tissue and see where skin grafts have tried to repair the damage, the skin a slightly different colour and slightly thicker but…it hasn’t been enough. “Do these?” he asks quietly, and James pulls his hand away slowly. Maybe it’s just coincidence, but Sam sees a look flash across his face just because he’s sure no one’s watching.

“Yeah…”

That’s all he says and Sam doesn’t push any more, moving his hand up and stroking his fingers through James’ hair gently. He smiles as he eases out a few knots and sighs gently. “You’re hair’s really long,” he mentions, and James nods against him with a giggle while mumbling something about being observant. He smooths the dark strands down again and James turns in closer to him, Sam feeling as his body seems to grow heavier and his breathing seems to even out. He’s not quite sleeping, not yet anyway, but he’s obviously relaxed and at peace. Sam’s pretty sure that makes him happier than anything else that night. “We had sex,” Sam says suddenly, and it’s that which makes James snort so his whole body jumps. Still, there's something beautiful about pointing out the complete obvious. 

“You don’t miss a trick, do you?” he quips, bringing his head up and doing some sort of weird shuffle to move upwards. He’s practically on top of Sam now and is wrapped around him like a giant octopus, all legs and arms and hair that’s just…everywhere. “I didn't think I'd..." James starts before he's grinning and raising his eyebrows, "Was it satisfying enough for you, sir?”

“What do you think?” Sam’s half laughing and half too tired to even breathe, bringing his hand to James’ cheek and cupping it gently. He manages to plant a soft kiss on his lips and feels as his boyfriend smiles into it, the two of them parting and sighing contently to each other. “We have some time before Peggy and Steve get back?” James nods against him and Sam is happy at that, their bodies melting into one so James lies with his head below Sam’s chin and Sam keeps his arms wrapped firmly around the other man. It’s a little cold, a little airy, and a little messy, but they’ve never been so comfortable. There’s nothing but the sound of contentment running through the room, soft breaths and a gentle sighs coursing through the silence every so often until Sam speaks up at a whisper. “Hey, uh, my mama wants to meet you,” he smiles, and James head comes up again to try and look at Sam, “She wants you to come over for dinner. Her orders.” He didn't want to say anything earlier simply because he wasn't entirely sure how the night was going to play out. Overall, he'd say it's a pretty damn good day. "What do you think?"

James leans up this time, and presses a sloppy kiss right to the middle of Sam’s chin. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Sam.”

 _Damn_ , Sam thinks with a soft sigh, _I'm gonna have to tell mama she was right_.

James is definitely his boyfriend now.

**Author's Note:**

> a few little warnings for you: in this fic, sam goes through a few instances where the reception towards him haven't been great. the negativity comes from both his family, friends, and previous relationships. one instance involves hypersexualisation after coming out and sam causing himself harm afterwards. it's a fleeting comment and happens after sam asks james if he needs time to think. james also fingers sam in his front - it is completely, 100% consensual.
> 
> well, that's that. i'm not 100% happy with this one like i was the first but i worked too hard on it to just let it lie, so i hope someone at least enjoys it! also, i almost _never_ write smut so i apologise if that part is a little disjointed. #itried
> 
> i still really love writing these two so i'm probably going to write another, but maybe from james' point of view so we can see what he thinks of his super cute boyfriend? 
> 
> and, of course, thank you so so much if you took the time to read this! it's very much appreciated. 
> 
> i'm on [tumblr](http://solsix.tumblr.com/) if ya fancy.
> 
> originally posted november 13th 2016.


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